Dog 1, Dog 2, and Me

Dog 1 is Mame (pronounced May-mee), Amy's 13 year old black lab. She was a wonderful dog, even to me, a cat person. She died two weeks ago and we buried her in the backyard. I miss her a lot.

Dog 2 is Freya, a mostly husky one year old. She's charming and bright and handsome, but she's also energetic and destructive. We're dog-sitting for a friend of a friend and we're not prepared for a juvenile delinquent. She's been with us for two days and has escaped the fenced-in yard three times. One time she got out after wiggling through a sloppily closed gate. So we kept her in and she chewed foam out of a chair seat, brought down the backdoor curtains and chewed them up, and spilled her food all over the floor. I got real tired of sweeping up the food and picking up pieces of things.

So today we kept her in the yard (after fixing the gate) and all went well for a long time. I checked on her every hour, sat on the porch for a while, etc. The last time I checked was 10:30 and she was gone. She could only have gotten out by jumping the fence. Amy had put a tag on her with phone number, so at 11:30 she got a phone call from some people up at Ingles that she'd pranced up to them and they'd hold her for pickup. The other two times people had caught her across the street and just up the street.

Tomorrow I'll be getting a long length of chain to put around the porch post and onto her harness to make sure she can't get loose and out EVER AGAIN.

I'm sure Freya will be great in about three years. I'm sure glad we aren't going to have her that long. And Sprout the cat will be glad, too; he's really pissed at this dog, rushes her hissing and spitting, and Freya cowers. Maybe that's why she's so desperate to leave us.

RIP

Alan Arbus, who played the psychiatrist Dr. Freedman on MASH. I didn't know that he'd been married to the renowned photographer Diane Arbus.

There've been some other deaths I noticed but none impelled me to blog them.

On a personal front, I didn't get the job as bookkeeper with Brother Wolf. I was one of six who were interviewed and I'm assuming I didn't get the job because I never heard from them.

I also decided not to take a job as manager of the Hotspot on Asheland Avenue, where the minumum work hours are 44 and expected is 55. I'm just too old and tired.

The new car is doing fine (yay).

RIPs

Jonathon Winters, great comedian and sketch artist.
Maria Tallchief, prima ballerina, first Native American ballerina, inspiration for Balachine.

Car Found

Last Thursday, after some negotiation and a test drive etc, I bought a 2005 Kia Spectra5 hatchback (so 5 doors), 4 cyl automatic, bright blue, new tires, new brakes, mechanic had just checked it over and said it was good. Gets 25-30 mpg in town. It's pretty high mileage (166700) but runs well. Of course, there are some dings and non-working things but they're all minor. I think it'll be just the thing to run around town in. I have to get it inspected and then go back to the DMV tag office to get the tag but I have 10 days to do it. It even has a rear window wiper. I  haven't figured out the window washer yet, and I haven't set the radio stations yet.

I'm pleased with it. It has a lot of pep and I have to have a light touch on the throttle or I suddenly discover I'm doing 20 miles over the limit. Amy says I'm a leadfoot anyhow.

Got rejected for another job. Usual thing -- great interview, then the email with the stock phrases . . . impressive credentials . . . would be asset . . . but we chose someone else. Sigh.

I was offered an opportunity with a transport outfit in Indiana that delivers RVs and small trucks (like UPS ones), but I'd have to get myself out there on my own dime, take the FCC medical and other tests and pay for them myself, pay my park expenses etc during the orientation (two days), and the pay is 80¢ a mile out of which I pay all my gas and meals and lodging and return expense. They advance half up front but, for example, if it were 1000 miles, that would be a $400 advance with the other $400 when you get back. It seemed pretty expensive out of hand and not very profitable over all. So I passed.

Car

I've acquired a little money so I'm now looking for a car. Used, of course, automatic, 4cyl. I'd like something that's a little boxy so I don't have to bend a lot to get in and out, which my knees will like. I'm going to look at a 98 Civic with this description:

Dark Green 1998 Civic LX Sedan
174K miles, in fair-to-good condition.
Automatic Transmission; New Tires & New Front Break Pads; A/C; Power Locks & Windows; CD/MP3 player; Moon Roof
$2,500

So, it's a sedan which means some bending. It's only about a half-mile from where I live so I can walk over to see it, assuming the weather's not too terrible.

There's another car not too far away, a Suzuki Sidekick, which is nice and boxy but is a manual 2-seater with an open back and a soft-top. Probably not too sensible (but cute).

Will let you know.

RIPs

Rick Hautala, horror writer
Chinua Achebe, fiction writer
Rise Stevens, opera singer

Moving Bruce

Bruce, who was Amy's roommate, has been moving a little over the past few weeks, but this Sunday (yesterday) was the big move. He's moving in with his girlfriend Emily so there was stuff coming from both places (and there's still stuff here for him to get). Amy, Tillman, and I helped, and her friend Simone helped, too. We had two pickups, an SUV, and a car, so a lot got done.

They found a really nice apartment at the bottom of King St. by Weaver Blvd. Emily can now walk to UNCA, if she wants to. Bruce will bicycle to his work as brewer at LAB.

Amy's not going to get another roommate right away because she's going to redo her kitchen. It'd be too bad to get someone in and then say "oops, no kitchen available for a while." It's going to be enough chaos for her and me to cope with. I don't cook over there but I do get water. And, of course, it's the main entrance to the house.

So big changes afoot.

I'm going to yet another interview on Friday, for a part-time accounting asst job at a business I know and a person who remembers my bookstore. I hope that's a good thing.